Where Was Hawkeye?
by Brown-Coat
Summary: My interpretation of a cut-scene from Winter Soldier.


Clint Barton walked down a street in New Mexico, hating life.

_Why is it so __**hot**__?_

He barely glanced at people anymore. He just wanted to melt into a puddle. And he found it rather likely that his wish would be fulfilled.

It hardly registered on the assassin's "Danger Radar" when he heard crashes come from a bank on the side of the street. Then he realized that it _was _a bank, so there was most likely only one reason two men wearing ski masks would be leaving it in such a rush. Especially when dollar bills were emanating from stuffed pockets and the standard unmarked bags.

This was pathetic. How cliche could you get?

One of the men shoved two woman out of his way - one fell to the ground, the other was nearly hit by a car - and he barreled toward the archer.

_Dangit._ Clint thought. _Stupid Avengers. Now I have a 'moral obligation' to stop them. This is Cap's fault._

The last thought ran through his head as he put a leg in front of the leader of the amateur robbers. The man fell to the ground with an odd flourish just before he smashed his nose on the concrete sidewalk. He looked at Clint and growled - _growled _- at him as he attempted to stand. Unfortunately for him, that was when his slower companion tripped on his face.

Clint laughed aloud at the spectacle before him; a tangle of limbs and masked faces attempting to find their legs and then get back on them. Finally, one of them made it to his feet.

"You're going to regret that, pretty boy." A small-ish pocket knife appeared in his left hand and one in the right hand of his accomplice.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" Clint responded with a smile.

The first man came at him knife hand first while the second stayed behind to watch. _Big mistake_. Clint ducked under the initial swing and dropped a heavy punch into the man's gut. He was doubled over before the SHIELD agent moved on to the next assailant.

He punched him in the jaw and the man hit the ground, unconscious. _Glass-jawed wimp._ He heard police sirens approach when he moved off into the darkness of a side alley. He was slightly surprised they had a side alley in a town this small. He wasn't exactly surprised when he found another man sharing the alley. He was less surprised when it was someone he knew.

"You finished playing sheriff, Cowboy?" the man said condescendingly.

"Now that you're here to take care of my town," he answered sarcastically. The man didn't answer. "Oh good. What's the mission?" The other agent took a step closer.

"Cap. He's gone rogue." Rumlow then stepped back again and looked into Clint's eyes. He seemed to be trying to decided where Barton's loyalties lay. Clint thought it over and then gave a tight-lipped grin.

"No kidding? I didn't think the old man had it in him." Rumlow looked relieved.

"He blind-sided the best of us."

"Who else?" By the look in Brock's eyes, Clint already knew the answer.

"Widow. She's been playing us all along. I brought files that show she's been giving information on us to the KGB since day one. She even killed Director Fury."

"Well, sounds like I'm going to have a time and a half taking care of these two." The comment was said flippantly.

* * *

><p>Clint looked at the files feeding to the left side of his glasses as he drove. He snorted and closed the eye.<p>

_Steve and Nat? How stupid do they think I am?_

The assassin knew the captain well. The man was as stalwart as they came, and he would turn on America just about as quick as Antarctica turned into Tatooine. And Natasha? He knew her inside and out. There was no way.

That meant that Brock was turned, though. That was problematic. The man was one of the best in hand-to-hand, and the leader of the most elite team in an elite organization of spies. Well, spies and nerds. But that was beside the point.

Thinking it over, Clint knew exactly how to draw Steve out to a point where he could get information to him. The tracker on his suit would be useful in finding the captain, but he needed to be warned about it somehow.

Clint also realized that the only way to get close to the Cap without drawing suspicion to himself would be to attack him. But first he needed a ride.

The archer leaned over and turned up his Marty Robbins CD. Then he made a call.

* * *

><p>The hovercraft's pilot looked back and gave Clint a thumb's up as he stepped toward the end of the gang plank. The vehicle was cloaked, sitting above an apartment building three blocks from where Steve's tracker marked him. Clint returned the gesture then claimed a grappling-hook arrow and quickly drew. He picked the corner of an office building that crossed a seldom-used side street. He attached the other side to the wall of the hovercraft and then zipped down the line.<p>

His plan was simple. Call the old man out, get him in an area without civilians to get in the way, make a racket, then tell him what was going on.

It was simple in theory, at least.

On an overlooking rooftop, Clint spotted the Captain trying to be inconspicuous. It was difficult when you're Captain America, but the man made it look almost easy. He was in a building adjacent to Clint's own. Clint took another grapple and shot it between the two buildings. The hook landed five feet from Steve. The hook was followed by a shower of glass fragments when Barton's boots made contact with the cracked window and he crashed into the building.

The assassin rolled to a stop and then rose slowly to his feet.

"Captain Rogers," he said with a smile. "Why don't we take a walk?"

Steve turned and moved the direction Clint pointed. "Take the stairs." Barton muttered when they came to the elevators.

"Why? Don't want to recreate the mess Rumlow left back at the Triskelion?" This was new. They'd tried to jump him in an elevator? Clint would've paid to see how that ended. Probably with Rumlow under a pile of agents. He deserved it, the pansy.

"Nothing of the sort, Gramps. I can keep you covered better in a stairwell." Clint patted his collapsible bow. When they reached the door to the stairs Clint gestured for Steve to precede him. "Age before beauty."

"Pretty sure I'm younger than you, wise-mouth."

"You must be going senile."

"Respect your elders."

Clint smirked and followed Steve down a flight of stairs.

"Tell me something," Steve began after a moment of silence. "Why?"

"Why? Because you're not the one who signs my paychecks."

"You don't have any loyalty? To me, Fury, the team, even to your partner?"

"Who needs loyalty when you're filthy rich? Not that I'm filthy rich. But you get the point." Clint kept his scumbag front going and avoided getting too comfortable.

"Good. That will make what I'm about to do a lot easier." With that Steve turned faster than Clint could track. He swung a left hook into Clint's cheek and then grabbed for his shoulder. Clint ducked under the grab and charged into Steve's midsection for a tackle. Rogers stumbled and then hit the ground. He flipped himself so that Clint slammed onto the ground with enough force to drive the breath from the archer's lungs.

While oxygen deprivation blinded Barton's thoughts, Steve grabbed one arm and hung him over the banister. He allowed Clint to grab the lip of the cement platform and dropped him.

"That's for New York." Then he leaped over the banister himself and landed on the ground two stories below.

"Well, so much for simple," Clint grunted as he hauled himself back over the railing and onto the stairs. Then he raced after the captain.

He saw two men standing by one motorcycle and looking off down the road. Clint shoved them out of the way and appropriated the second bike to follow Steve.

He spotted the captain when he shot through an intersection and followed him on a parallel route.

"Come on, buddy, can't we talk about this?" Clint asked over the radio after he found Steve's frequency.

"We will talk. I'm just making it so that other people don't have to listen to it." Steve's radio cut out.

"Fine by me." Clint breathed to himself.

The chase led the archer and the soldier out of the city and toward a rocky ravine in somewhat close to it. Steve nearly flew straight into the narrow valley and Clint followed just as quickly.

The captain started to gain slightly when large caliber rounds started raining down and impacting near him.

"Back off, I've got him!" Clint barked into his radio, and the hovercraft ceased firing. Unfortunately, the captain's motorcycle had taken a hit and it crashed.

Clint slowed to a stop and calmly stepped off of his own mount, allowing Steve time to gain his footing.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Cap." Barton shouted toward the other man.

"I've never been one to take the easy road." Steve responded. He pulled his shield off of his back and charged toward the archer.

Clint extended his bow and began firing arrows. Steve easily deflected the arrows and they shot off to the rocky walls on either side of him. Clint started a sprint while continuing to launch his trick arrows. They neared each other quickly, until Clint abandoned his arrows and prepared to go hand-to-hand.

Steve swung his left fist directly at Clint, which he blocked with his bow. The captain followed with a full-bodied slam with his shield that rocked Clint on his heels. Barton punched Steve's stomach and attempted to follow with one to his head, but Steve blocked it with his forearm. Clint swung again but Steve caught his fist. As the soldier began to twist Clint's wrist he went to sweep his legs, and Clint let Steve knock him to the ground.

Steve quickly knelt on Clint's chest and applied just enough pressure that the archer couldn't get the breath to struggle. He began to raise his right fist.

"Left shoulder, and inside the right eyepiece." Clint said quietly.

"What?"

"Trackers. In your suit. I don't know where they all are. You should probably ditch it." The archer grunted.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Do I seem like the kind of guy to join an evil organization bent on your destruction just because a stiff like Brock Rumlow did it? Have some faith, old man." Steve considered it for a moment before making a decision.

"Do you have any more information for me?"

"There's a hovercraft directly above us. 200 feet. Take the arrow that has a little blue thingy on the end. Don't miss." Steve nodded and discreetly collected the bow at his feet.

"Anything else?"

"Say 'Hi' to Natasha for me." Steve grinned.

"Do you want me to give her a hug and kiss for you too?" Clint shook his head.

"Natasha only lets _me_ kiss her." Steve grinned evilly and Clint regretted having said anything. Sooner or later, Tony would find out. Then he would tell Thor, and Clint would never hear the end of it. And Nat would probably be mad at him for babbling. "One more thing, Pops. Make it look real." Steve nodded and raised his fist slightly higher. "But don't break my nose or anything. No need to damage the goods, right?"

Steve sighed exasperatedly and finished his punch.


End file.
